You know those short TV shows in between normal shows? And you know the one with that stupid dog grunting Bacon all around the house, I mean, live it like you’ve been there dude. Amiright? Anywoof, last night I experienced the real deal. I’m not fooled by science made bacon strips, I know the fresh stuff- I can smell it on a pig from two farms away. Not trying to brag.

So she made Bacon. But it was weird, it was dark outside… no coffee was brewing… they hadn’t just woken up from my whining to get on the bed… Regardless, she was makin bacon and I was going to be a part of it. She’s gonna let me help!

As I stood in the worse possibly place for me and my mom I watched as she mixed some frothy, lumpy stuff in a bowl and set it simmering in a pan with oil. Pancakes! I know pancakes, I got this. But still… it’s not the right time. Are they messing with me? Let’s confuse the dog with no concept of time, har har har!

The bacon sits on a paper towel and I truly consider eating the paper towel… it’d have more real bacon in it than those waxy jokes of a treat.

The pancakes are done and she’s placing it all on a plate. She’s pulled a bottle from the cupboard, from the smell of it I can tell it’s that maple stuff they drizzle on things. I smell it comes from trees, but honestly, I wouldn’t take anything from a tree- do you see what we do to those things? Would you syphon syrup from your toilet? Didn’t think so.

I follow mom back to living room and take my innocent, “I couldn’t hardly be interested in your food” pose and wait.

I’m getting a little weird because she doesn’t seem prone to letting me taste her food. I know! What a bitch right?